


Talking cars have a lot to answer for

by kiwialicat



Series: Start as you mean to go on [1]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: M/M, Midge - Freeform, NZ Rugby, Super Rugby, crusaders - Freeform, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwialicat/pseuds/kiwialicat
Summary: “Is that a bowl of popcorn on your lap, or are you just pleased to see me?”Mitchell’s head turns towards George who seems completely engrossed in the movie, the quip seemingly forgotten.But then there’s the grin, curling up his lips and the flash of amusement in his eyes as he turns to look at Mitchell.“What?  Not pleased to see me?”  George pushes more popcorn into his mouth and chews slowly, not breaking the eye contact Mitchell’s intent on making.Play sport together, watch TV together, live together...it's a natural progression from there.





	Talking cars have a lot to answer for

It had all started innocently enough.

Drumms had gone to bed early like the sad old man his flatmates regularly accused him of being, and George was engrossed in some Pixar movie, a manly tub of yogurt in one hand as he sprawled in the middle of the couch, giggling like a teenager.

“Have you seen this?”  George waves his yogurt spoon in the direction of his landlord’s ridiculously large flat screen as Mitchell wanders in and sinks down next to him.  George doesn’t bother moving, despite taking up a large part of the couch and forcing Mitchell to press against him as he folds his arms across his chest, eyes front and brow furrowed.

“Isn’t there some MMA on or something?”

George finally tears his attention away from the screen and looks at his team mate, letting out a derisive snort.

“Yeah, because you’re a total fight sports junky.”

George’s face dissolves into a grin as he focuses back on the TV again. “You should watch this, it’s awesome.” He dips his spoon into his yogurt and scrapes at the bottom of the container.

“Be better with snacks.”

“Genius.  Why don’t you make popcorn.”  George pushes the spoon into his mouth before slowly sliding it back out again.  He catches it out of the corner of his eye and Mitchell doesn’t look away in time.  There’s an awkward couple of seconds when Mitchell tries to make it seem like he wasn’t staring at George’s mouth and George didn’t catch him doing it.

“We _got_ popcorn”?

“Yeah.” George nods, thankful for the chance to send Mitchell into the kitchen, “cupboard over the sink.”

It feels like Mitchell’s scrambling to get out of the room, and it’s only seconds later before George hears his usual kitchen clatter.

He grins to himself as he finally hears the microwave beep and then Mitchell emerges with the largest bowl he could find, stuffing handfuls of popped corn into his mouth.

George presses pause on the Sky remote and pats the couch alongside him as Mitchell stalls.

“Bring that big ol’ bucket o’ corn here boy.” George manages to ease a little of the tension in the room by applying his best cheesy American accent.

Not for long though as there’s another awkward moment as Mitchell glances to the left and right of George.

“What?” George nudges his head towards the small space at his left, “corn’s getting cold.”

Mitchell sits, bowl in lap, and as soon as he does, Georges pushes his hand into the bowl and grabs a fistful of popcorn.  Smiling like an idiot he stuffs half of the handful into his mouth, before taking the movie off pause.

“Is that a bowl of popcorn on your lap, or are you just pleased to see me?”

Mitchell’s head turns towards George who seems completely engrossed in the movie, the quip seemingly forgotten.

But then there’s the grin, curling up his lips and the flash of amusement in his eyes as he turns to look at Mitchell.

“What?  _Not_ pleased to see me?”  George pushes more popcorn into his mouth and chews slowly, not breaking the eye contact Mitchell’s intent on making.

George purses his lips like a duck, “you should watch the movie.”

“Why?”

George shrugs, “coz it’ll mean you stop watching me?”

Awkward moment number three has Mitchell turning his head forward, and doing as he’s told.  He does what he’s been told right up until the end of the movie.  The two sitting in silence, aside from George’s regular guffaws.

As the credits start to roll, George raises his arms in the air, stretching and yawning, and then unexpectedly, slipping am arm across Mitchell’s shoulders as settles back again.

“You alright there Bridgey?”

Mitchell feels a hand squeeze lightly at his shoulder, as George replies, “yip, tops.  What shall we watch now?”

“Um…”  Mitchell watches George rest the remote on Mitchell’s knee before letting his hand settle on his thigh.

“You sure you’re alright?”

 Mitchell feels George’s head slowly rest against his own before sinking onto his shoulder, “yeah.”  There’s what can only be described as a soft sigh accompanying the reply.

“Because…you’re snuggling.”

Mitchell cringes.  He just said snuggling.

“Yeah.  Shall we watch Knight Rider?  Love that talking car.”

“It’s not like I mind, or anything, it’s just…unexpected.”

George presses closer, and Mitchell points the remote at the monster screen and looks for Knight Rider.

An hour later, and Mitchell has to admit the talking car is kinda funny. He’s just about to comment that maybe George’s taste in TV isn’t so bad afterall, and it happens.

“George?  Did you just kiss my neck?”

“Hmm mmm.”

“Right.”  Mitchell feels George’s nose where his lips had been and, well, he seems to be rubbing it back and forth.

“Whatshallwewatchnow,” is mumbled sleepily into Mitchell’s neck.

“Um…I think we should probably go to bed.”  The words are out before his brain catches up.  He feels his body stiffen.

“Mm…your room or mine?” Only a little less sleepy, and clear enough for Mitchell not to mistake the question.

“No…I mean it’s late…and you’re tired.” Mitchell manages not to launch himself off the couch as he says it.  George will get the message, surely.

Mitchell can feel George’s eyes on the side of his head before he realises that his head has lifted off his shoulder.

“So take me to bed.”  And there’s a small squeeze of fingers at Mitchell’s shoulder.

Mitchell turns his head slowly, hoping that the closeness of George’s face…his eyes…and yeah, his mouth, won’t throw him if he somehow manages to ease into it.  There’s hope and then there’s those dish-wide eyes, asking, actually more or less pleading for an answer.  Mitchell closes his mouth over the intently formed refusal.

“Well that’s not a no.”  George doesn’t smile or move much at all, perhaps wondering if Mitchell will find his voice.

“In fact…” Mitchell’s frozen as George’s intent is signaled with the angling of his head, and the puff of breath across his cheek, “that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”  Mitchell can’t even close his eyes as George pushes his lips forward and presses them confidently against Mitchell’s.

George is moving enough for both of them, and somewhere along the way he’s moved his hand to the back of Mitchell’s neck.  It feels like a lot longer than the few seconds it actually is before George parts them a small way, his eyes peaking open and obviously darting down to Mitchell’s mouth.

“Did you just…” Mitchell doesn’t want to say it.

George grins, slow and assertive. “You noticed then.”

“Fucking hell.”

George’s expression grows curious, but he doesn’t move and if anything Mitchell feels the fingers on his neck press in a little more firmly.

“Was it that bad?”

Mitchell doesn’t know what to call it.  He shakes his head.  Bad’s definitely not what it was.  Unexpected, gentle and… bloody hell.  Mitchell feels his eye widen as it hits him.

“Fuck, it _was_ bad.”

George is sitting up, suddenly, creating some distance between them as he shifts along the sofa.  He’s abruptly turned into the awkward one as he shoves his hands between his legs and looks down at the carpet.

“No…not…” Mitchell sighs and steals himself for saying something completely unfathomable. “It was…nice.”

Nice?  Who the fuck lets their straight best friend kiss them and calls it nice?  Mitchell’s about to open his mouth to replace ‘nice’ with something a little more favourable only to find his progress halted by George’s tongue, pushing past his lips as George’s body is suddenly back where it had been half a minute earlier, along with George’s arm and hand, holding Mitchell right where he wants him.

When George pulls back the next time, his familiar smug smile is firmly in place.

“Was that a bit forward?”

“Have you…” Mitchell absently rubs at the back of his head where George’s hand had just been, “done that before?”

George narrows his eyes, “I reckon you’d remember if I’d done that before.”

Mitchell rolls his eyes, “you know what I mean, fuckhead.”

And George is suddenly hesitant, “can I plead the fifth?”

Mitchell considers pushing it, but opts for something equally as provocative, “so what happens now?”

George shrugs, “I hadn’t really planned anything.  So yeah, maybe I will just go to bed.”

There a few seconds of silence there where Mitchell decides and changes his mind and promptly changes it back again.

His fingers settle lightly on George’s knee, because it’s an action, and it speaks volumes and maybe it’ll help add weight to his words. “Want company?”

He thinks George is about to say no, and he’s about to attempt to make a joke out of the whole thing, but then after what feels like an age, George is nodding, ever so slightly.

“Yeah, coz it’s getting colder, right?”

Mitchell nods, his expression turning serious, “yeah, damn Christchurch winters.”

There’s silence right up until George gently pulling his bedroom door closed behind them.

“So this is just sleeping, right?” Mitchell can’t keep the nervous uncertainty out of his words.

George doesn’t say anything as he stands and tugs his t-shirt off, perhaps sending an entirely contradictory answer with his actions.

He leans over and tugs back the duvet, “I reckon there might be some snuggling.” George glances up at Mitchell, “but yeah, I’m about ready to pass out here.”

George hasn’t really answered the bigger question.  Mitchell stands, looking between his friend and the bed, and contemplating the merits of a late night discussion he’d never previously dreamed of having.

“Just…” George gestures with a nudge of his head, “get in, would you?”

And Mitchell does, pulling at his own t-shirt and tossing on George’s floor before he slips into the bed and moves over to let George follow him.

Mitchell pulls the duvet up to his chin and lies on his back, studying the ceiling carefully.

He can feel George’s eyes on him and his head eventually turns to see him looking at him intently, his head propped up on one hand.

“So…I snore.”

“I know.”

Both men grin, and Mitchell looks up at the ceiling again.  Something about the intense intimacy of where they are making him unable to look at George.

“Do you think we need to talk about this?”

Mitchell lets out a breath, “maybe not…but I want to.”  He forces his eyes back towards George. “You’d better get started on this snuggling thing before I chicken out.”

And George does, moving in closer and pushing an arm across Mitchell’s torso, before nosing at the side of his head and brushing his lips against this ear.

“This okay?” George mutters into the side of Mitchell’s head.

“Doesn’t suck.”

Mitchell closes his eyes, not recognising the transition from wake to sleep when it comes minutes later.  Somewhere in the night he wraps his arms around George.  Sometime in the morning he wakes up and feels the vibration of George’s snoring.  He grins to himself and closes his eyes, enjoying the extra warmth on a cold Christchurch morning.

END.

**Author's Note:**

> You read this far? Thank you :) These two really are extremely cute/adorable/lovely when they hang out together. They do live in a house with another team mate who owns a massive TV and are known to snuggle on the couch. Who knows what else?


End file.
